The door sealed with a sound like a tomb closing.
Stone ground against stone, ancient mechanisms locking into place as glowing runes flared briefly—then faded, plunging the chamber into a dim, oppressive stillness.
Amaya staggered backward until her spine hit cold rock.
Her chest burned.
Her lungs screamed.
Her heart felt like it might tear itself apart trying to beat its way free.
Above—somewhere far, far above—she could still feel them.
Calix's rage.
The Dragon King's fury.
Two colossal presences crashing against the mountain like storms fighting for dominance.
And she was trapped beneath it all.
Her knees nearly buckled.
The man before her straightened slowly, watching her the way a predator watches wounded prey—not rushing, not lunging, but savoring the moment.
The Night Fox King.
His power filled the chamber like creeping smoke. Not heavy like the dragon's. Not sharp like Calix's.
This was something quieter.
Smarter.
Deadlier.
